


Virginal Sufferance

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Murder, F/F, F/M, Grooming, Implied Incest, Loss of Innocence, No Dialogue, Underage Sex, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The sins of a father are repaid through the corruption of his innocent daughter.An original work set in a vague medieval England.





	1. The Lady and the Guard

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at OW, initially heavily influenced by Reign but extensively modified after a series of edits and revisions.

* * *

 

In the west wing of the Lord Cumberland’s castle, deep within the winding stone halls, past the portraits of all the previous Lords Cumberland, occupying as little space as possible, stands a guard facing the corner of a room. In the corner before him is the Lord Cumberland’s only legitimate daughter, Lady Faye, on her knees, suckling on the fruit only a man could offer. She is beautiful for her age. Not even past her first decade, the girl already shows the signs of blossoming into the fairest lady in all the land; her hair is golden and vibrant, tied back within the caul upon her head; her pale skin is delicate and smooth, having never been threatened by the pressures of hard labor – or any labor at all, really; and her eyes are a soft brown, light and glimmering with all the innocence of childhood as she dutifully suckles, like a calf on a teat.

It strikes the guard particularly foul that the girl must be reduced to such, pleasuring a lowly scoundrel like himself; destroying her innocence with undeserved sin.

Of course, this does not stop him from partaking.

In truth, the guard did not begin this dangerous experiment. It was young Faye’s suggestion; a curiosity aroused by her untimely placement before her father’s chambers in the middle of the night. She had been restless, haunted by nightmares of the hideous Lord Hereford, who had been visiting with his wife. She had snuck out of her own chambers, past her snoring handmaiden, and tiptoed through the castle in the skilled way that only children and assassins know. It was not her first time exploring so late, but on that fateful night, it had been her last.

She found herself by the Lord’s Quarters. There were no guards in front, which infuriated the little girl, for she was certain that great harm was being inflicted upon someone within the room. Such noise! Deep, painful groans that she recognized as her father’s! Sharper, softer ones that sounded akin to the titters of her dear friend Lucia. Fear and apprehension compressed themselves in her gut, and young Faye pressed herself against the wooden door. It was open! She peeked through the slivery crack, and caught a glimpse of two forms that would forever be etched in her mind; her father stood bare, the back of his muscular and scarred body facing her, and a woman – no, the Lady Hereford, kneeling, entirely nude and with something in her mouth! A veiny, stiff-looking piece of flesh.

Faye had seen naked men before. Peasants returning from battle often had to be treated in the chapel with few coverings and smallclothes, and she usually stayed with a chaperone to pray for them. The organs between those mens’ legs were always limp, however, and filthy. Not at all like the one she saw that night. It was erect, full of life, and shimmering with a strange liquid coating. Faye would later learn that this coating was the byproduct of an intimate mix from both mouth and manhood.

Lord Cumberland’s daughter crept back to her chambers, perplexed and even more restless than earlier. The next morning, when she stood by her father’s side in the middle bailey, waving farewell to the Lord and Lady Hereford, Faye could think of nothing but the night before. The memory pervaded her every thought and refused repression. Soon Faye began to embellish; her father was longer and thicker, his groans akin to roars, and the Lady Hereford feasted as though she were starved. It did not take long for these exaggerations to include Faye herself. Sometimes she replaced the Lady Hereford, and her father would grunt out her name – other times she was her father, and the unfamiliar instrument that the Lady Hereford handled so skillfully filled her with wonder as she tried her hardest to imagine the sensations it could bring.

At last, Faye could no longer keep her fantasies to herself, but she knew, somehow implicitly through timid interactions, that to bring them to her friends and handmaidens would be the end of everything.

She chose instead Benedict, her prettiest guard, and divulged her secrets. Benedict was understanding, she felt. He listened and did not treat her like a petulant child. She was the Lord’s daughter, after all.

For Benedict himself, it was the worst day of his life when the lordling approached and begged him to follow her to the castle gardens. With no chaperone to curb the conversation and vouch for him, the guardsman suffered through the sinful chatter as much as he could. He could hardly believe his ears as the Lord Cumberland’s daughter spoke of the things she had seen, the things she had dreamed. Benedict felt himself damned the moment he entertained the idea of humoring the girl; how could he escape? To tell the Lord Cumberland of the words his precious daughter uttered would see him hanged for mendacity. To listen on would see him burned in eternal Hellfire.

At some point, a man realizes the futility of his situation, and follows the path easiest.

And now, seven months after they had begun their depraved correspondence, the guard Benedict and his charge couple together, hidden from watchful eyes.

Faye enjoys their playtime well enough. The first meeting had been the worst. She had proposed a new game, far riskier than the talking that had preceded. What if she were to do to Benedict what the Lady Hereford had done to her father? Benedict had agreed almost immediately, although Faye was certain of the guard’s regrets. They flashed in the blue depths of his eyes. She could understand why, of course. She knew the game’s discovery would spell some sort of certain doom for her Benedict. That is why they were always careful. They met twice a month, in far off places; the stables at night; the shadows behind the Keep’s chapel; the nooks and crannies of the east and west wings; in broomclosets and garderobes (Faye particularly hated the latter spots) – if there was privacy, the pair found a way to play.

_Play._

Benedict shudders at the word even as the girl below him bobs her head up and down. He pats her thin shoulder twice, assuring her that it isn’t time yet. Then he lets his thoughts drag him away from what he is allowing to happen. Back to that first time;

_The Lord Cumberland’s daughter by the pond on the Great Hunt; her free, flowing hair sheened in the sun as she led him through the forest. Before the oak did she beckon for him to come forward. There she pulled down his breeches, held him in her petite, dainty hands, and wrapped her lips around him. A game, she had called it. No one would know._

Benedict knew that it was wrong. That this was no mere game, no mere play. He was despoiling an innocent. This perversion of young Faye’s body and soul was nourished each time they met. Nourished by him. He liked to think that since it was only the mouth, and never defloration, he would have some chance of redemption and forgiveness. He liked to think of a life where he had never spoken but the required greetings and farewells to the girl.

Benedict shudders again, this time from the ministrations. He warns Faye, and she releases him with a soft ‘pop!’ – she doesn’t like the taste. The guard turns away to the side, and spills onto the floor. His foot stamps and smears the waste around until it is nothing but a faint streak, soon to fade.

Lord Cumberland’s daughter rises and licks her lips. She smiles up at her guard and awaits his affirmation. Benedict gives it to her in the form of a smile of his own, and then a kiss on the forehead. He laces up his breeches and steps away. Then he leads her to the gardens, leaving her in the capable care of her handmaiden.


	2. The Handmaiden

Lucia was no fool. She knew exactly what Lady Faye and the guard Benedict got up to whenever they were both inexplicably absent for any period of time. She had spied them both one night after returning from the Lord Cumberland’s bedchambers. They were so reckless! In flagrant near the east wing’s garderobe. Lucia had been shocked. Lady Faye was so young! And yet she sullied her knees and pleasured men as though she were a yellow strumpet. 

Lucia kept her knowledge to herself, but with each passing day, its weight took a toll on her. Five years Lady Faye’s senior, the handmaiden had been assigned to keep the girl company and to guide her away from bad influences; to be a righteous sister and friend - a trusted chaperone and confidant. For four years did Lucia keep to this task faithfully, and for four years did her bond with Lady Faye grow so strong that it was near palpable.

But now Lucia feared that she had failed in her duties, both as a friend and a guardian. She was no longer capable of holding back the determined Lady Faye whenever she caught sight of Benedict at one of his posts. Standing lamely, the handmaiden would be reduced to a stationary rack for whatever items her friend would have in her hands, if any, and be forced to wait until the guard returned with the girl. And oh how Lady Faye would try to go on as though nothing had happened at all, and poor Lucia would have to play along, not daring to betray her own awareness of the situation.

Lucia watched as Benedict led Lady Faye through the gardens, and felt the rush of heat at the tips of her ears. She hated him with as much passion as she could muster. How could he take advantage of such a vulnerable soul? What sort of foul agency drives a man to see a girl who has not yet bled and rob her of innocence? It would be one thing if Benedict had been of the nobility; still a deplorable act, but at least it could be comprehended - it was known for lords to fall susceptible to base vices, a consequence of station and sloth. But a lowborn guardsman? Recruited from the hamlet? Despite all her loathing for him, Lucia could not bear to imagine the tortures that would befall Benedict if he were discovered. Why would he take such a risk? Was the lure of carnality so powerful that it turns men mad?

Lucia locked arms with Lady Faye as soon as Benedict released his hold upon her shoulder, and whisked the girl away before any lingering thoughts manifested into action.

The pair found repose in the upper bailey's square, where four willows shaded each corner. It was beneath one of them that Lucia kept herself busy by braiding her charge's hair. As she combed through the golden tresses with her fingers, the handmaiden found herself grateful for these moments with Lady Faye. There had been some distance between them in the past month, but Lucia had never found the courage to question it. She was at her lady’s service, after all. But she was also sworn to the Lord Cumberland. If she could not properly fulfill her responsibilities, then she was failing them both. An abrupt melancholy overcame her, and tears began to well up in Lucia’s eyes, but she blinked them away. 

There was a persistent fear of being set aside. Perhaps Lady Faye would feel the need for a new handmaiden. Perhaps she would catch onto Lucia’s behavior around Benedict. Perhaps Benedict would be company enough. Although Lucia was certain that her lady would never so easily cast her off, a blade of doubt continued to prod her, and the knots in her gut tied tighter as she entwined the rich, golden locks of her friend’s hair.

She wanted to suddenly pull, to yank the silky locks out by the root and kick the girl away. Lucia saw herself doing it, felt the lifeless threads of gold falling from her hand, heard the shock and hurt from Lady Faye as she turned around to scream...

Lucia took a deep breath and steadied herself. Her vision had blurred, and her heart could have left an imprint in her bodice. Lady Faye had felt the thudding, and was beginning to stir in concern, but her handmaiden laughed it off and reassured her with a light kiss at the back of her head. They stayed under the tree until dusk, when Lady Faye became hungry for supper.

After dining in the great hall, Lucia escorted Lady Faye back to her chambers, and two bells later, slept beside the girl, humming the soothing lullabies that had brought peace to her lady’s troubled nights long gone. Only she couldn't sleep. Her eyes bore through the darkness, waiting for Benedict to burst in and take sweet, little Faye away from her.


	3. The Lord's Children

Lord Cumberland employed a staff of three dozen servants, maids, orderlies, and serjeants-at-arms within the castle. Most came from the village; sons and daughters of serfs whose wives had been filled with noble seed. Many firstborns in the village wore the golden hair of their liege lord, lions in a field of brown mice. 

This of course gave rise to much animosity between the village leaders and the local clergy; the latter argued that the Lord Cumberland was merely exercising his divine right, but the villagers were persistent in their protests. To allay the possibility of revolt, the chaplain advised Lord Cumberland to take in more help than necessary, and to rescind his grandfather’s tacit policy of First Night. The ten or so children who he did sire were unacknowledged in the public eye, although he occasionally sent gifts to remind them that they were of his loins.

He long suspected that the girl Lucia was one of his own. Her hair was a dirty yellow, and her features reminded him too much of himself, especially the long, broad nose. She had blue eyes, however. None of his spawn had blue eyes. Nevertheless, Lord Cumberland detached himself from such uncomfortable thoughts the first time he took her. And then the next. And so on until she came to him one night downtrodden, speaking of missing her bleed. A tincture of tansy remedied the scare, but Lord Cumberland could not bear to see her in such a way ever again.

Although he could have easily dismissed her, Lord Cumberland was aware of his daughter’s affinity for Lucia. Only Faye could make his heart soft. So he stayed away and curbed his desire with the generous assistance of the Lady Hereford, whose belly had swollen after her last visit.

A miracle, declared the Lord Hereford, whose past four wives were unable to deliver him an heir.


	4. The Hound and the Bitch

Faye loved to practice her numbers. She could count to one-hundred, and even took initiative on her own afterwards, concluding that the next two figures would be one-hundred-and-one, and one-hundred-and-two. Her tutor was an old woman from the chapel named Agnes. She treated Faye kindly, and always encouraged her learning. She was the closest thing that the girl had to a mother, besides Lucia, who Faye considered a dear sister more than anything else.

It was a cold spring morn when Agnes decided that Faye begin practicing sums outside. Although initially cross that she wouldn’t be able to see Benedict early on as agreed, Faye soon found herself captivated by the problems that the old woman etched upon the sheets of parchment. She spent hours learning the operations and using them to find solutions. When noon arrived and it came time for Agnes to return to the chapel, Faye was despondent and her meeting with Benedict was all but forgotten. 

Agnes, never one to leave a ward in low spirits, volunteered to take Faye to the kennels before departing. The Lord Cumberland never permitted his daughter to see the hounds; he believed them too vicious, and feared the trauma their growls and snapping maws could leave upon a sylph like Faye.

Of course, Faye had wandered by the kennels every chance she could, with the help of Lucia and sometimes Benedict, and even had a favorite hound; Bruno, whose narrow brown head reached her nose. It had been some time since her last visit, a full month or so, and the girl was eager to feel Bruno’s wet tongue against her hand once again. Thus, she pretended as though Agnes’s offer was completely novel, and suppressed her urge to race straight for Bruno when they arrived. 

Agnes kept Faye from getting too close to the bars of the cages, not knowing that the little lady had opened them all at one point and hugged each dog inside as though it were a stuffed doll. Today there were two hounds to a cage, since the bitches were in heat. Faye had witnessed animals mating before, and marveled at how unpleasant it all seemed; the awkward and rough behavior of the rutting males; the submissive and impatient manner of the females – she wondered if it was as uncomfortable for men and women, and assumed that it was. Faye had decided long ago that if this was the only way to make children, then she would never marry, ever.

Even still, the girl could not help but stare as her Bruno began to sniff the backside of the bitch beside him. He seemed so calm and assured in the certainty of the mount, and even began to lick her!

Agnes had decided that Faye had seen enough, and appeared troubled by the intensity in which the little lady studied the dogs. After taking the girl back to her handmaiden and bidding them goodbye, the old crone found sanctuary within the chapel, prayed, and forgot.

Faye, however, couldn’t forget. She had never seen a male do that before. Was it similar to what the Lady Hereford had done with her father? What she had done with Benedict? But it was impossible, was it not? Faye did not have what men had, and she was certain that Lady Hereford didn’t either. So how could a male use his tongue on a female in such a way? Did it bring pleasure? It was hard to tell in animals, for Faye could not read them by observation, no matter how careful. All throughout the rest of the day, the little girl could only ponder the possibilities, and when she was at last reminded of her faithful guard Benedict, she nearly dismissed him out of impatience.

Quickly realizing the opportunity, Faye had summoned for him the moment she reached her chambers. She sent Lucia away when Benedict arrived, and shared with him what she had observed earlier in the kennels. Benedict explained that the dogs had been playing a game, akin to the one he and Faye played, only with the roles reversed. Since mating was so unpleasant for the female, the male would ease the way with his tongue first.

Faye grew even more curious, just as Benedict knew she would, and asked if it were possible for him to do the same to her.

Benedict said yes.

And so he guided the little girl onto her bed, commanded that she copy the bitch’s position to a fault, and hiked up her skirts so that they gathered around her waist. 

Faye closed her eyes as she waited for Benedict to continue. She could feel his warm breath against her, could hear his panting, which reminded her of Bruno. For a while it seemed like the guardsman was simply staring at the little raised behind that just crested his face. Then she felt the tongue. It trailed a long, wet line from her cheek to ane. Faye shivered at the sensation; it was not unpleasant - perhaps it was even a bit ticklish.

Benedict's tongue began to lower, but then the door opened.


	5. The Witness

Lucia let out a scream that would have surely alerted some of the maids in the next wing, had not Benedict's hand found its way over her mouth in time to stifle the noise. 

How quickly had he risen! How quickly had he sprung to action and prevented it all from going awry; this accursed and unholy dalliance with the Lady Faye; this play with his very life. 

It seemed then, to Lucia that at that very moment she would be forced to leave the castle; be consigned to the monastery with old Agnes, for Lady Faye would never allow her within her presence ever again. 

Tears bubbled within her eyes as she willed herself to look away from the sight of her charge; a little girl forced to take up the position of a bitch, to lose herself to the carnal and sinful draw of lust, something that she should not be able to comprehend at an age so young and pure.

Lucia slapped Benedict's hand away, gave him a mortified look, and took flight from the chamber as a startled dove does its nest. 

For the rest of the day, the handmaiden made sure to keep to herself within the servant's quarters. All of the other maids gave her funny glances and pestered and lambasted her over lapsing in her duties to her lady. She bore through it all; the warnings, the envious barbs, the wishful thoughts that slipped to tongues unwise – what more could she do? To even speak of what she had seen would condemn three souls to fates unknown yet undeniably damned nonetheless. 

Benedict would probably expire within the dungeons under the Lord Cumberland's meticulous care. It was common knowledge to all within the castle and hamlet that their Lord was a cruel man at heart, as the nobility often are. She tried to clear her mind of images too sickly to stomach; Benedict speared upon a pear of anguish later used to split his mouth; his manhood fed to the hounds in front of him; the saw bisecting his body from foot to head, so that he might feel as much agony as possible... no, it was best not to think of what would befall Benedict should the Lord Cumberland be enlightened of his guard's relationship with his daughter.

As for herself and Lady Faye, well, such an egregious failure of duty and station would see them both censured in the public eye. Lucia would probably be sent off far away, name and reputation besmirched. If not accepted by a convent, she would have to take up livelihood within a tavern, serving as a wench and whore. Maybe she would forgo serving entirely and simply sell her body, as all forgotten women must to survive. She would never have a husband. Her best bet would be to become a winter mistress to a mayor or baron, but who would want her with a name so tainted?

Poor Lady Faye. If Benedict had already taken her virtue, all prospects of marriage and alliance with more powerful lords would be lost, unless of course, she could stomach the slit of her thigh by a dagger. Lucia did not think that her lady would; Faye so hated pain. She was such a fair girl too - she could have even married into the minor royalty. Oh, how the Lord Cumberland would weep to know the whore his daughter had become.

The day passed on quickly, until it was pitch black out and Lucia had not any supper in her belly. As the rest of the maids and cooks found their beds in the servants quarters, Lucia grew more and more restive. The decision that she would have to make would have to be made soon. Lady Faye and Benedict knew that she knew. Lady Faye would listen to the guard and plead with her father to send her away. Her, Lucia, the faithful handmaiden, who served her mistress dutifully and without complaint. And yet, she had allowed this lechery and unnatural relationship to fester and grow.

It was nigh midnight when she arose from her bed and slipped out, noisy exit masked by the loud snores of the other maids. She padded across the stone tiles, through the winding halls of the castle, to her lady's bedchambers. She cracked open the door and peeked inside. Lady Faye was sleeping peacefully under the linen covers. Another girl was by her bedside, just as unconscious in a chair, needle and thread in lap. Lucia felt her throat grow dry and her stomach drop.

Her replacement.

Closing the door, the handmaiden clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sob that escaped. She had known as much. She loved Lady Faye, but she was not foolish enough to think that the affection was reciprocated. But if that were true, why did she feel such hurt? She had no time to dwell on it. She needed to see the Lord Cumberland. She needed to confess.

She crept from Lady Faye's door and treaded the path that was once so familiar. The Lord Cumberland had been a kind man to her. He was gentle when he took her, passionate yet soft in his pillaging. There was little Lucia could have done to stop him, unless she wished herself sent back to the village. He taught her many things in the ways of love, and on their visits, would give her pleasure nigh unimaginable. Even when she lied about missing her courses so that their souls could be saved from damnation, Lucia could barely keep herself from giving her lord one final taste of what he had enjoyed so liberally in the months before.

Would he listen to her now, coming to him as she was, in the dead of night in all but a shift and gown? Would he perceive her intentions as false? Would he strike her down for daring to utter such tales of his flesh and blood? Of his innocent and pure Faye?

She reached the door to the Lord Cumberland's quarters and knocked once, twice, three times before he opened it and welcomed her inside. After sitting in a lavish chair and sipping some wine, she told him of what she had seen. Of all she had seen. The first incident months earlier behind the garderobe; the most recent and disgusting act that took place within Lady Faye's bedchamber; the illicit meetings in between.

She observed how calmly the Lord Cumberland took this all in, how he seemed to brood over all that had been revealed. She watched as he approached her, shivered as his hand caressed her cheek and settled at the nape of her neck.

As the fingers closed around her throat, she became aware of the manic glint within the Lord Cumberland's eyes. She tried to plea, but words could not form. The goblet dropped and wine spilled at her feet. She rose, or rather, she was picked up, clawing at her lord's arm and struggling so valiantly that she might have escaped once or twice, but was always quickly recaptured.

Her vision turned dark at the edges, and she could no longer feel her limbs. Her eyes bugged, nostrils flared as she tried to take in breath, but soon enough these efforts proved to be in vain.

The Lord Cumberland released the handmaiden's corpse and let it fall to the floor. The wine pooled around the girl's body, giving a rather morbid look to the whole scene. She had soiled herself in her final throes, and the stench was beginning to rise. 

Settling down on his bed, the Lord Cumberland buried his face within his trembling hands and wept until daybreak.


End file.
